Patience and Indifference.

I WANT TO GET OUT OF THIS COUNTRY!


How many times do you hear someone saying that in your daily life? I watch people every day jump and do bend over back words just to hear that they might some day soon get the opportunity to get out of the country. And the last time I shared the same level of enthusiasm for the same thing was when I was, what.. Twelve? It was when I'd just come back from Zambia and all I could think about was getting away from this crowded place, in terms of the country and my family. I wanted to be somewhere people spoke my language, literally. I needed to be somewhere I'd know that when someone says they want half a spoon of sugar in their tea, they really do mean half a spoon. And I really needed to be somewhere people wouldn't laugh every time I showed any signs of having an opinion about something. Seriously, because the last time I didn't have an opinion about something or actually anything, it was probably around the time I discovered I have thumbs. And it's still hard, all of that is still there, nothing really changed. I changed though.

I learned what to say when someone says "yar7amkom Allah" after I sneeze. And I learned when to just nod and smile. And probably the most important thing I learned is when to ask a question and when to keep my mouth shut. With time, I learned that Egyptians really are amazing people, once you learn the dos and donts. And the funny thing is, once I finally got comfortable and found places and people I wouldn't mind spending the rest of my life around, everyone is all about running off somewhere far away.

I guess what I'm here to write today isn't particularly about Egypt. I'm here to try to wake my self up, or not. I'm not sure. The thing is, I've had several opportunities to get out of the country as soon as I graduate. One of them was a Marriage proposal. And another which happens to still be an option, is to graduate and move to Sudan with my dad, study Human Rights and work with the United Nations. And well, the permanent option that I've always had and will always have, is to move to the United States of America. And I'm calling it that because when I think about moving there, that's just how it sounds in my head. If I say America, then it would sound like a vacation. And as I'm writing this right now I realised that I'm Eighteen, and technically speaking, I could pack my bags and go where ever I want whenever I want since I'm an American citizen.

And it makes me sick. Just the thought of leaving everything behind makes me sick. I'm a person that needs a back pack full of completely pointless things every time I know I wont come home for the rest of the day just to feel safe. One time, I seriously considered taking a bar of soap with me to a trip to El Obour city, just in case I get lost in the desert and then after days I find some water and I feel like washing up. And well, more that once, I've taken my shampoo and conditioner with me to a normal visit to my aunt's just in case something happens and I need to spend the night. Oh and my calculator (because oh my god what would I do if someone asks to calculate something and I can't do it mentally =/), plastic bags, ketchup, note books, books, a stapler.. it's endless. And it's simply because I'm afraid that I'd stray away from home and I wouldn't find anything familiar.

People have left, people have left and with time they forgot that they ever cared about anything back home. And I forgot that I ever worried about missing them. And they really did matter at some point. People that changed my life to the better, people that, literally changed everything. And this looks like some miserable mourning ritual for a lost lover, but it's not. The people I'm talking about are people of all ages and genders and who have gone to different places. Some died, and others just moved. And others, I've just lost contact with them. And here's the butt-naked truth, at some point, I stopped missing them. At some point, my indifference just took over, and it didn't matter any more where they are. And they stopped giving a rat's left ass-cheek as well. And frankly, that scares me, and saddens me out of and back into my senses over and over again.

So now, the question is, am I clinging to this country just because I don't want to be the one that let go first? And if I do stick around until everything else melts away and everyone finds some where to start their lives, will I ever have a life of my own?
I've always said I'd never leave the country because then who'd be there to witness the birth of Amgad's children and Amany's children. But the truth is, when Yassin was born, I was waiting outside the operating room, no witnessing involved. And When Mohga, Amgad's wife was giving birth to Malak, I was asked to stay at home, because, well.. why go?

And the funny thing is, both Amany and Amgad would do anything to get out of this country and go anywhere else. And recently I've noticed Amany's been seriously considering moving to Sudan. So, where does that leave me? Where will I go? or is the question really how long will I stay? and if I do stay... will it be out of fear or will it be for something I believe in.

I wish I knew. But then again, I know nothing, I never did and never will.

The Push.

I find myself, lost in my fear of the future, a large number of times too many a day. And It's not about what life could bring upon me. It's not about who will leave and who will stick around. It's not about whether I'll be left to die alone or not. It's almost always has more to do with how I will react to whatever may come my way.

Love. Interesting, yeah? Well, the funny thing is, people fall in love with other people, don't they? They're afraid that the person they love wouldn't love them back. They're afraid they'd wake up one day and the person they love is gone. They're afraid someone will come along and take the person they love away. They're afraid the person they love doesn't think they're good looking enough. They're afraid the person they love doesn't think they're smart enough.

hmmm... Why is it then, that my fear is always that I would love someone that loves me more than I love them, or even worse, more than I love myself? I'm always afraid that I'd wake up one day, pick up everything that could be traced back to me, and leave. I'm always afraid I'd realise that I was right all along, I AM better off alone. I'm afraid I'd end up with someone that believes in me enough to make me forget what I want to do with my life.

So, that's my say on THAT subject.  I don't think I've ever felt this uncomfortable with publishing a post.
Speaking of being uncomfortable, I was asked how I'm able to type out the most personal details of my life onto a page and just publish them out there for everyone to see. Well, here's the thing... I believe that the only way to acknowledge the existence of a human experience, is to record it somewhere at least one other human being will come across later. And who said any of this is "the most personal details of my life"?
They're personal, I can't really deny that bit. But "most"?

Oh and A friend once said.. "I read your blog, but It gets me worried about you.. You keep writing about things that you actually should be letting go of". That's what I'm doing. Hence the blog's title.

Breathe in, breathe out. Silence.

Say Something, Anything.

I remember a few years ago, I used to fight with my mother and brother almost every single day. And they'd stare at me waiting to say something. I don't remember how it was possible for me to be so... silent. I'd just stand there at stare at them, with the whole world falling apart and rebuilding itself and then falling apart again, in my head and outside of it. I thought that if I kept my mouth shut for long enough, someone will say something that will make everything right again. I was certain that person was not me and was never going to be me. I'd listen to my brother screaming at me to say something, even if it's wrong, he just wanted me to react. I never did, because I had nothing to add. At least if I didn't say anything, I couldn't make things worse, right?

I realise that Dr. Phil is a generally frowned upon reference, but I look up to him, and that's that. And he always asks something. "And how's that working for you?"
Well it never worked back then, and I've stopped trying to make it work.
I've learned that sometimes, saying something, saying anything... is better than silence. Truth will be found in my words even if it's not right there in your face. Courage will be the only thing there in your face.
I'm not the kind of person that has trouble apologizing. Why not say I'm sorry, if it will fix everything?
Why not?

Since my last blog post, I've started three other blog posts, but didn't manage to finish them. The funny thing is, there's never a conclusion to the things a write.. so why couldn't I just click on the Publish Post button and get it over with? I don't know. Maybe every blog post has some kind of end after all. Even if it doesn't look like one.

Am I selfish? Do I come back here every once in a while to write a bunch of stuff about myself? Am I expecting anyone to be interested in any of this?
Not really.

I remember having so much to say when I started this post. I had an amazing day in Encro's session today, I don't think Ive been this proud of myself in a really long time. And proud of the people around me. I also wanted to talk about love. haha, now how often do you see something like that written in one of my blog posts? I also want to talk about the sacrifices that come with any choice anyone ever has to make. I also have a lot to say about indifference, and how it scares me.

but then again, I don't feel like saying anything else.